Torment of the Inner Leyton
by alaricnomad
Summary: AU, LucasPeyton. Sometimes all you need to get rid of a vice is the right motivation. ONESHOT.


**Torment of the Inner Leyton**

By Alaricnomad

"Sawyer! Hurry up and take your break already! You've got work to do!"

Peyton Sawyer scowled in the direction of the resounding voice, just barely resisting the urge to flash her slave-driver boss the finger. Instead, she irritably cursed under her breath, purposely letting the heavy back door to the restaurant close with a defined bang that echoed as she stepped into the alleyway.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she leaned against the brick wall, letting her head fall back against the rough surface as she produced a cigarette from above her ear, placing it between her lips as she rummaged through her pockets for a light. Her face darkened as her search proved to be fruitless, swearing viciously under her breath until suddenly she found her vision full of the translucent red of a cheap Zippo lighter, attached to a large, roughened hand whose artful fingers expertly produced a flame.

Speechless, Peyton mutely lowered her head to accept the light, only daring to raise her gaze after a thin stream of smoke was produced, finding herself staring into the most gorgeous pair of eyes she had ever seen.

_/Ready…aim…fire…I'm sunk/_

Said eyes were a beautiful, soulful summer-sky blue, the kind that could make one weak in the knees as cliché as it sounded, just by the pure power of the emotional intensity radiating from them. Said eyes belonged to the most gorgeous face she had ever seen, beautiful in a bad-boy, roguish kind of way, though marked by a severity and self-control that seemed softened by a light smile curling firm, sensual lips and the teasing light in those breathtaking eyes.

/_Just imagine if that focus and control was directed toward something else…like something involving one naked him, one naked you, and a bed/_

Unfortunately for all of us, there are the metaphorical inner demons and angels that exist in every individual, often referred to as the yin and yang, or the super-ego and the id. And the darker side of each spectrum is the one who lives on impulse, the feral and primitive part of each of us. In Peyton's case, much to her misery, her inner devil just happened to be a randy little bugger.

She swallowed hard and she licked dry lips, taking an impulsive drag of the cigarette. Perhaps it was just her imagination running away with her, but she could have sworn those amazing eyes followed every movement of lips and tongue, and darkening with- heaven help her- something akin to interest.

"Thanks," she murmured, shocked she could even manage to audibly articulate a single word.

"No problem." He mimicked her, leaning back against the wall as he lazily puffed at the half-finished smoke in his own hand. She watched her out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sight of dark jeans and a blue tee that clung tight enough the accent the very generous definitions to the man's body, and the apron slung loosely from slender hips.

/_Hear the heavens' ring, guaranteed to come, a walking erotic dream_/

She winced at the sudden perverted trail of her thoughts and she forced himself to focus on the man's face, where she saw, much to her embarrassment, a trace of amusement. She cleared her throat, looking away awkwardly. "So…you work here?"

"Yeah. I'm a cook. You?"

"Waitress."

"You new? I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah, just started."

The blue-eyed man chuckled, a rich, low sound of mirth she found herself falling instantly in love with. "I heard Johnson giving you a hard time in there. I can promise you all the managers aren't that bad. Mrs. Scott's planning to fire his ass soon anyway."

Peyton grinned. "Good riddance. Scott, she's the head honcho, right?"

"Sort of. Haley's the proprietor, and joint owner. She's got a partner behind the scenes who took care of a lot of the initial financial stuff."

She nodded, suddenly recalling the woman who had popped her head in at her interview. She remembered quiet authority but amity in gentle eyes, auburn hair, a nice face, and an innate warmth as the woman moved away. Haley James Scott.

He took a long, final drag of his cigarette, tossing it to the ground and stamping it out with the toe of his boot, much to her disappointment, quickly dispersed when the man lingered, looking up at her wryly. "You know, my wife's always telling to quit this stuff. Maybe it's time I listened."

This time, there was nothing Peyton could do to quell the sharp stab of disappointment to welled up inside.

She was not sure how much of that disappointment showed in her face, for the man lingered still, seemingly searching her expression for something. He must have found what he was looking for, for his gaze found hers, blue eyes dancing with mischief and lips showing the slightest hint of a smile. She found herself utterly befuddled.

"Just kidding," he told her airily, "Actually it's a friend of mine that's always saying that, but she's such a mother hen, it's become a joke among us that she's like a nagging mother or wife."

"And you know," he continued, and she felt herself relax and tense all at the same time, "I heard somewhere that kissing a smoker's like kissing an ashtray, so just imagine what two smokers would be like."

He fumbled with something in his pocket, and then pulled it out, tossing it to her, still flashing that teasing little grin. "Give me a ring if you change your mind about those cancer sticks."

With a final wink, the mystery man with the teasing smile and the blue eyes disappeared back into the kitchens. Her jaw unhinged, and she looked numbly down into the item in her palm. The man's lighter, wrapped inside a napkin covered in curvaceous, masculine script…a name and a phone number.

Lucas…the name slipped off her tongue like honey, sweet and sultry as the man himself. Grinning to herself, she pocketed the napkin and tossed the lighter into the nearby dumpster. Maybe she did have motivation to quit.

--

A couple of weeks passed, and much to Peyton's dismay, she found that the fates seemed to be against her, for she never worked the same shift as Lucas. She did, however, get the satisfaction of seeing the asshole Johnson very publicly fired after pushing Haley's husband, Nathan's, buttons one too many times. Not to mention that she had the pleasure of getting to know his new boss, who was a generous employer and a great woman to boot.

It was through Mrs. Scott or Haley as she insisted Peyton call her, that Peyton made the acquaintance of one Brooke Davis, the hidden business partner and financial agent behind the restaurant. Not to mention the boss' closest friend, a fact that threw Peyton for a loop until she saw one afternoon as she watched them interact.

It was just before an expected dinner rush, and the small bistro was relatively quiet, the pace slower than they had seen all day. She had been sitting at the front counter helping Tony, a waiter, roll silverware as Nathan and Haley sat at a nearby table, murmuring to themselves over a pile of paperwork.

Everyone absorbed in their work, it was no wonder that the welcoming jangle to the front door turned a few heads, even more so when the disruption to the quiet atmosphere came in the form of an average height, a strikingly beautiful woman, dressed in a rather expensive looking suit dress Peyton knew to be Clothes Over Bros.

The woman had then proceeded to march up to the Scotts, plop herself on Nathan's lap and plant one on him right in front of his wife. To Peyton's surprise, the gesture was met with nothing more than a rolling of Haley's eyes and an indulgent smile, and to Peyton's continued shock, it was followed by the same chaste lip-lock and a warm embrace for the restaurant owner. The conversation that took place afterward hinted that the woman- Brooke Davis, who didn't recognize a face plastered all over the magazines?- had been in New York for nearly six months, half-explaining her…enthusiastic…greeting to the married couple.

And so went her first encounter with Brooke Davis, amiable and charismatic in a way that instantly drew Peyton in as if they had been friends their entire lives. It still rang as a surprise, however, when the brunette extended an unexpected invitation.

"Are you serious?" she questioned the other woman as the two of them sat together at the counter, Brooke waiting for Haley to finish up in the office, Peyton taking a break from a trying afternoon of nonstop tables.

Brooke shrugged and smiled at her, absently toying with an empty straw wrapper left over from the drink brought to her. "Sure, why not? I'd love you to come out. It'd be nice to have new company."

Peyton eyed her uncertainly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't know, Brooke. I can only imagine the kind of place you live at. I don't know if I'd fit in too well."

The fashionista sighed, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's not that bad. This isn't New York or L.A. The place I have in Tree Hill is perfectly modest. You'll be fine."

A warm chuckle resounded from behind them, and Haley appeared. "Only you, Tigger, would refer to a ten-room house and an eight acre property as 'modest'."

Brooke rolled her eyes, leaning back against the counter. "That's beyond the point. Come on, P. Sawyer. It's the middle of summer…I'm offering you an Olympic size pool and free drinks. What's not to like?"

Still feeling uncertain, Peyton distractedly traced a finger around the rim of her water glass. "But you've been complaining for days on end how you never get enough time with Chase when he's in town, and Nathan and Haley could use probably use the privacy. Wouldn't I just be in the way?"

"Nah. Another friend of ours is coming up for the afternoon, so you don't have to worry about being any kind of third-wheel. So?"

Peyton exhaled sharply, giving in. "Alright, alright. I'll be there. Noon okay?"

"Noon's perfect."

"Great." The blonde glanced at her wristwatch, wincing as she realized the time. "Crap. I'm late. Catch ya later, B. Davis, boss-lady. Thanks for the invite."

Brooke did all she could to stifle her smile as she watched Peyton hurriedly gather her things and rush out of the restaurant, but a devilishly smug smirk broke out on her lips, as well as a conniving glint in her eye that had Haley cocking a brow.

"You little devil. You're playing matchmaker, aren't you?"

Brooke grinned as she twirled around joyfully in her chair. "How could I not?"

--

The next day was a bright and sunny, but unbearably hot Saturday. Peyton managed with an impressive will power to drag herself out of bed and her air-conditioned apartment to make her way to the address Brooke had given him the previous evening, soon finding herself dazedly being shown into an outdoor pool area nearly the size of an entire city block. Okay, that may have been an exaggeration on her part, but her mind was allowed distractions as her eyes befell the pool's sole occupant.

/Holy…whatever it is that's answering my prayers…Allah, Yahweh, Buddha, God Almighty, whoever, I forever worship whoever is responsible for such eye-candy/

Lucas swam with a strong, self-possessed confidence and grace he seemed to exude in everything he did, powerful strokes leading him to the stepladder closer to Peyton's view, and she felt a definite stab of unexpected heat as she watched him emerge from the water.

/Imagine the things you could do to that…/

He spotted her a moment later, a dripping, sleek figure of pure masculine beauty that smiled and waved her over while he bent to retrieve a towel, giving her a perfect view of his ass, perfectly outlined in wet trunks.

/Whoo!/

Peyton approached him with weak, rubbery legs, managing a light smile as Luke straightened and faced her, supposedly oblivious to her near-drooling over him. "You're early. Brooke and Hales said you weren't coming by until later."

"Oh, that. Ah, it was too hot to wait much longer. I didn't think either of them would mind."

Lucas shook his head as he toweled off, pulling a short-sleeve button-down over his head, much to her displeasure. Some of her disappointment began to ease, however, as she realized it was only halfway done up, showing off his chest. "Nope. Brooke will probably be ecstatic."

"Yeah. So…you know them?"

"Hmm-mm." Lucas glanced at her thoughtfully. "Nathan's my brother. So, ala, Hales is my sister-in-law. We went to high school with Brooke. They didn't mention it?"

She shook her head, "Nope. Just said there'd be another person here, a friend of theirs. Brooke didn't mention who." She shrugged. "Maybe they didn't realize we were acquainted."

"Hmm…maybe, maybe not." For a moment, he looked contemplative, his brow furrowing with a serious, almost scholarly expression. She thought it extremely hot.

/Plenty of rubbers…a bathtub…Jacuzzi…handcuffs…/

Feeling her face warm and an involuntary desire stirring inside, she felt extremely discomforted. "What's wrong?" she asked, fighting her best to stay attention to the conversation.

"Hmm, nothing. I just get a strange feeling, knowing Brooke's character. But that doesn't matter." He smiled softly. "Maybe we should do this properly." He held out his hand. "Lucas Scott."

She shook his hand. "Peyton Sawyer."

His mouth stretched into another of those slow smiles. "I know." Before she could question him on the vagueness of his statement, he switched the topic. "You bring your swim gear?"

"Yep," she said with a grin, holding up her bag, "Right here."

He nodded and started away, beckoning her to follow. "Great. There's a room in the pool house where you can change. The water feels wonderful in this heat. You'll really need it."

/Bondage…Crisco…whipped cream…chocolate sauce…/

Following after him, Peyton found himself wondering at the strange lilt in his voice at his last statement. They entered the small building a few moments later, and as her nostrils filled with the scent of chlorine and dank musk, she heard the door being closed behind them. A moment later, she found himself being pinned against it.

Despite his first aggressive move, he hesitated. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, equal amounts of uncertainty and electric attraction flowing between them. Peyton watched as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, the cords of muscle in his neck flexing in a strangely erotic fashion. She took the first initiative, leaning forward until her lips brushed against his neck, licking away a drop of sweat beading down his throat. The taste of salt and male against her tongue was intoxicating, though even more so was the deep, throaty groan he gave as his head fell back. "God, Peyton, I have wanted this for so long. Since the moment I first saw you."

His words must have been like a green light for them both, as Lucas Scott watched something click and shift in the eyes belonging to the long-term object of his attraction and fascination. "Now we can have it," she whispered, low and sultry, and he was utterly done for.

The molten heat of minimal arousal exploded into flame as she leaned into him, biting at his neck, hands sliding up his shirt. He moaned brokenly, his hands clutching at her hair as he tried to make sense of the sudden assault, distracted with the haze of desire fogging his mind.

"Peyton…"

She paused for a moment, looking up at him with dark eyes, taking in his glazed look and panting breath with a hint of self-satisfaction. "What about Brooke? She's got Chase here, doesn't she?"

"They always sleep in on the weekends. With all the time they spend at work, do you honestly expect they'll be coming down anytime soon? And God, does it even really matter?"

Hearing the arousal so prevalent in his voice, Peyton chuckled against his skin, teasingly scraping her teeth against his collarbone as her fingers skillfully made quick work of his shirt buttons, trailing kisses down his chest. Lucas's eyes closed, groaning softly and he pulled her back to him, locking his mouth over hers once more as he buried his hands wrist-deep in her curls.

She shivered as he moved his hands down, grazed his fingertips down her sides, sliding them just beneath the hem of her tanktop to rest his palms against the swell of her hips. His kiss was hot and wet and sweetly sultry, turning her entire body into a heated inferno ready to melt for sheer sensuality at any moment. He laughed quietly as she arched sharply against his hand, from a mere sliding of skin against her stomach. She whimpered audibly, especially he smoothed his fingers over the patch on the small of her back, earning her another one of those low, rich sounds of mirth. "Good girl," he mumbled as he caught her earlobe between his teeth, "Smoke-free."

"Luke!"

His breath was hot and panting against her neck, but he stopped for a moment, looking up at her with dilated eyes heated with lust, but brow furrowed with concern. "What's the matter? I thought this is what you wanted? Am I getting it wrong?"

"No," and Peyton smiled softly, raking her hands through his unruly hair, "I just get the feeling we're in for a wild ride. I just want to make sure we're both secure."

Lucas grinned rather wolfishly, leaning in to kiss her gently, sweetly, a contact that quickly escalated into an assault of teeth and tongue and a tugging at whatever articles of clothing still stood in their way. "Trust me, Peyt," the blue-eyed man panted as they fell together against a nearest semi-soft surface- an inflatable mattress, "We're more than secure."

And amazingly, inner Peyton was silent.


End file.
